The Flatmate before John
by Shinobi Saru Corp
Summary: I've had several flatmates before. Many of them left within the hours. Not that I cared that they left so quickly. The longest flatmate that I've had stayed a few days, and he turned out to be the most interesting flatmate so far, aside from John. -SH
1. Chapter 1

**The Flatmate before John**

_Written by Tora_

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock in anyway, all rights belong to BBC sent from heaven above.

* * *

_**Chapter 1**_

Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.

Yes. That is me.

Hello, how d'you do.

I live in 221B Baker Street, and am a consultant detective, and that is all you need to know about me.

I am, however, in need of a flatmate. I've had several other flatmates before, none of them really appreciating what they saw. The last flatmate left after one hour. He found my dead lab rats.

Mankind's toleration is disturbingly low. Mankind's toleration has always been low, but not this low.

Mrs. Hudson had informed me for the seventh time that there was a man who was interested in being flatmates with me, when I finally told her I'd consider.

I had been considering it since the first time she told me. She had been knocking on my door every hour to remind me that there was a man interested.

I was sitting and reading the paper, when the door knocked again.

I peered around my papers to study the door.

Man's knock.

He must be tired from traveling, his knock was sloppy and heavy. Was I to be flatmates with a man who would be traveling a lot?

I got up and briskly walked to the door and unlocked it.

I stared at the man, and he stared back.

Height: five foot ten.

Weight: About 183lbs.

I took a glance at his suitcase. "Northern Ireland," I said.

"I didn't even say anything…" the man said.

"Correct," I replied, still looking him up and down. "Come in."

The man slowly followed me and shut the door. "Don't we need to make introductions?"

I lazily plopped down into my chair. "No need. Your name is Wilber Barrett, and you know who I am."

The man named Wilber Barrett set down his suitcase awkwardly and said rather quietly, "Did Mrs. Hudson tell you my name?"

I sighed. "No. But I assumed she told you my name."

"Then if Mrs. Hudson didn't tell you my name, how did you know my name?" Wilber asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I ignored his idiotic question and said, "You used to be married?"

Wilber frowned hard and said, "I never—"

"Course you never told me," I interrupted. "You were married for about ten years I'd have to say…"

Wilber simply looked at me. The look that preceded most of my previous flatmates running away. "Nine…."

The number sunk into my brain and I suddenly violently banged my fist on the arm rest, causing Wilber to jump. "So close!" I hissed to myself.

"How do you know?" Wilber demanded, taking me out of my train of thought.

I absentmindedly said, "There's a band of pale skin around your ring finger, idiot. I'm guessing you recently divorced because the skin hasn't had a lot of time to get tanned. The flesh around your ring finger is still soft."

"Right…" Wilber muttered.

The thing that truly snapped me out of my thought was that Wilber began to softly drum his fingers on his side.

"Something the matter?" I asked curiously, except I knew what the matter was.

Unaware of what he was doing, Wilber replied, "What?"

I sat up a little straighter, getting a little interested in this brown headed man. Oh yes, his hair was brown. Did I mention that? He was obviously vain about his appearance, because it was dyed brown. He himself had to be in his late forties. "You're upset about the divorce," I mused. "You left her, didn't you?"

Wilber uncomfortably took off his coat and began to drum on his thigh a little more rapidly.

"Do sit down," I said slowly, absorbing all that he was doing. This was a rare treat. Usually my flatmates ran off about now.

I had already deduced a lot about him, but I wanted to keep prodding, because I found it interesting, of course.

Wilber sat down stiffly.

He's been traveling all day. Most likely sitting for a long while.

"Would you prefer to stand up, Wilber?" I questioned.

"Um no… that's fine… and call me Will," Wilber said awkwardly. He avoided my eyes and looked around the room.

"Very well Wil, with one L," I decided.

Wilber stopped looking around and said, "Wait, what? What do you mean one L?" He was frowning hard and almost looked shocked.

I smiled. "If you want to be called Will, you will be called it. But the way I want to say and spell it, and that is with one L."

Wil frantically tried to defend his name. "But that doesn't make sense. When you say my name, you won't know if you're saying it with two Ls or one..." He paused. "I think I'm confusing myself…"

"Of course you're confusing yourself. I see your name spelled W-I-L. Not W-I-L-L. Your name is after all 'Wilber' and not Willber, correct?" Actually, I wasn't sure why I was asking him that, when the tag on his suitcase said Wilber Barrett.

Wil looked confused. "Don't call me Wil with one L," Wil finally said stubbornly.

"No can do," I simply replied back. My eyebrow twitched a little. Ahhhh. I see. "Your wife called you Wil and spelled it with one L, didn't she..."

"So tell me about yourself?" Wil asked all the sudden.

Of course he wanted to change the subject.

"I'm a detective. A consulting detective, to be exact," the words dripped from my mouth. I was much too interested in him to be bothered with talking at the moment.

Wil tensed up.

I chose my words correctly. A smile crept on my mouth.

"Oh… so… you go with the police and do crime investigating things?" Wil half-heartedly said.

"Shut up, I'm thinking," I barked softly.

Wil, realizing I was studying him, got up and said, "Right… I'll be unpacking…"

Wil took his suitcase and hurried off to his room.

My eyes were fixated on the chair he had been sitting in. I imagined him sitting in it, and began to look him over again.

When I thought the time right, I stood up and went to Wil's room and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Wil said shortly.

I opened the door and sure enough, the time was right. He was unpacking. I scanned the room and his suitcase.

Oh, joy! Christmas had come early. I stared at his suitcase, which was my early Christmas gift. He was in a big hurry to leave his wife. All his clothes were mashed together in some kind of jumble. Wait—he had also stayed at a hotel before and had stuck out the little lotion container. Very vain about his appearance. He had to keep his hands hydrated, of course.

I did not need long to stare at his suitcase to decide that he was a business man, but I knew that already too. "What company did you work at?" I demanded.

Wil said nothing for a few seconds. Then said, "I'd rather not talk about it or my wife, thank you very much."

I sighed. "Very well. You worked at the capitol of Northern Ireland. But you lived in the country far away from people. So you have to travel a lot. Your back pains have been troubling you for a long while, and I take it you've had to move your business to London."

Wil stopped unpacking to gaze at me. "How did you…" the words trailed off.

I might have given him a small smirk. "Simple. Your business card is located at the capitol, you live in the country because of some of your shirts, and since you live in the country, you have to travel a lot. You've been traveling a lot, and your back has started giving you pains, and well, the London part is easy."

Wil raised a hand and snapped, "And how do you know I'm from the country?!"

Such an idiot. Such an idiot. Must I explain everything? "Your accent gives it away. It's well hidden, but you still sound like a country boy."

"But what about the shirts?" He interrupted.

"I was about to get to that," I growled. "Don't interrupt me. A couple of your shirts are stained green. I take it you run a farm? Or _ran_ a farm?"

Wil ignored my question, and continued to demand, "What about the back pains? How could you tell that?"

Good grief, that was easy. Anyone could deduce why he had back pains. "The way you sat down all stiff like. Also you have pills for your back pain in your luggage."

"Right… was there a reason why you came into my room?" Wil growled angrily.

I smiled. "Shall we go get something to eat?"

Wil frowned. "I'm not in the mood, really…"

"Nonsense, get ready," I said, leaving his room. "I know just the place. There's a new Indian restaurant."

I left his room to go sit down and read some more. Except I wasn't reading. My mind was on Wil. He was hiding something. This was going to be interesting, and I highly doubt he would stay my flatmate for long…

A few minutes later Wil came into the room. "I'm ready," He said flatly.

I didn't look away from my papers. "Why don't you get some take out, Wil."

I could tell that Wil was shifting his feet, as he processed what I just said. "Wait… you're not coming?"

"Of course I'm not coming," I replied simply.

"But you said—"

I stopped Wil from speaking and said, "I only said that so I had an excuse to go into your room and have a look around."

I glanced up to look at Wil. He looked extremely flustered looking and was frowning. "Fine. I'll go eat there myself."

"Suit yourself."

"And I'm not bringing food back for you."

"I'm not hungry anyway."

"You're unbelievable."

"Point?" I demanded, looking at him.

Wil took a deep breath and said, "You are selfish and unpredictable, as well as nosey."

I blinked. "What's new?"

Wil gritted his teeth and said, "I'm going for lunch. I'll be back. While I'm out, why don't you ponder what I said?"

I looked back at my paper. "Don't get the curry special or the fresh spring water," I advised him.

Wil opened the door and said, "Why not?"

Why not? Why was he so simple? Couldn't he think about it? "Because the curry seasoning isn't from India the way they claim it to be, and they use ice cubes in the fresh spring water, which defeats the purpose of fresh spring water, doesn't it, Wil…"

Wil barked back, "I'll be sure to get the curry and fresh spring water, thanks for the advice, Sherlock!"

The door slammed shut, and I was left alone with quietness.

I instantly picked up my phone and phoned up a friend of mine at the police department.

"Sherlock," I said into the phone as I heard someone pick up on the other line.

"Oh. Hello, Sherlock…" said the voice on the other line. This wasn't Lestrade. It was someone offsetting the phone system.

I glared and said in two words, "Lestrade. Now."

The person retorted back, "Lestrade has gone out for lunch!"

Rolling my eyes, I said calmly, "Anderson, where is Lestrade."

"Gone out!" Anderson insisted a second time.

Did he not know the word 'where'? Was he that dumb? "_Where_, Anderson?"

"That new Indian restaurant that everyone has been going to! He keeps going on about the Curry Special." Anderson mused. "Tell you what—"

I hung up and stood up to go.

Putting on my scarf and donning my coat, I began my march out to the Indian restaurant.

Going into the Indian restaurant, I spotted Lestrade instantly, and Lestrade spotted me instantly. He rolled his eyes and mouthed a 'what now?'.

I smiled and waved. Lestrade didn't take it as a friendly gesture. He glared and beckoned me.

As I walked to him, I saw Wil. Smiling, I waved at him too. Wil ignored me.

Lestrade hissed at me, "Will you not do that, Sherlock?"

I stopped smiling. "I'm being friendly."

"It's creepy!" Lestrade barked.

Slipping into the booth across from Lestrade, I said, "Why is Anderson holding your spot while you're gone?"

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. "Because… I asked him to?"

My eyes narrowed a little. "It's a wonder Anderson's face doesn't offset the phone system…"

Lestrade jerked his head back and said, "What?!"

I shook my head. "Not important."

"What is then?"

I pointed at Wil, who was pretending to read the newspaper. "Him."

"What's so interesting about him?"

"I said important."

"Well interesting and important are sort of the same…"

"Not even close."

I could tell Lestrade had to think about what I said and had to try to separate interesting and important. Why couldn't that man concentrate on what was important, instead of trying to find the difference between what was important and what was interesting…

"Lestrade. Focus," I said, snapping Lestrade out of his train of thoughts.

"Right. What's so… _important_ about him?" Lestrade stared at the man. "Looks like a normal man to me."

I gave Lestrade my cold glare. "It must be so boring to be so simple…"

Lestrade glared at me. "It's not as boring as you think it is. Why don't you give it a go sometime?"

"His name is Wilber Barrett, and he's from Northern Ireland. He recently devoiced his wife and moved to London," I said, giving Lestrade the facts.

Lestrade's face was blank. "Please don't tell me you decided all that just by looking at him for a couple seconds…"

"In about 15 seconds to be precise."

"Good grief."

"He's my new flatmate."

"Ah… I all the sudden feel for him…" Lestrade sympathized with Wil, giving him a sorry look. "Can I make a bet how fast you'll run him off at the office?"

I ignored Lestrade's question and went on. "He's lying about something."

"So you've come to _me_ for advice?"

"Of course not. You're over thinking, Lestrade," I said in my bored voice. "I need you to do something for me."

Lestrade sighed. "Of course… it would be me…"

"I need you to find out a little more about his wife," I told him.

"Can't you do it? I'm already working on a case that I'm struggling with," Lestrade complained.

A smile crept on my lip. A case he couldn't figure out. Good grief, such a dimwitted man. "I can do it, but I'm going to be busy."

"With what?"

"Why, your case, of course," I said cheerfully, rubbing my hands together.

I hadn't had a good case in a while. "Explain," I demanded.

Lestrade sighed. "Do I have to?"

My smile grew. "You can't get very far without me. So tell me the facts…" I began to grin. His expression was most amusing.

Lestrade rolled his eyes and gave in. "Fine. We recently found a dead body floating in the river Thames—"

"Are you sure the body was floating?" I interrupted.

"Well actually the body had sunk—"

"Then how did you find it?"

"I was getting there, Sherlock! Stop interrupting me!" Lestrade barked back, glaring into my eyes.

I smirked. "Continue."

"The body had sunk, some people saw it in the shallows as they were about to go out on a boat. We suspect suicide," Lestrade paused to drink some Indian tea with leaves that probably weren't from India.

I rolled my eyes. "Why do you always suspect suicide?"

"Why do you always suspect murder?" Lestrade demanded.

I snorted and said, "Because I'm right and you're wrong. Simple as one plus one."

Lestrade ran his fingers through his hair and groaned. "Why am I helping you!" he muttered under his breath.

"Because you need me."

* * *

A/N: First time writing a Sherlock fan fic! I'm excited! Chapters will be posted about once a week! At first I thought it was going to be hard to write it from Sherlock's POV, but as I was going, it grew pretty easy.

No, I will not be shipping Sherlock with my male OC. I believe in Sherlolly.

Did I do an okay job? Does he sound too OOC?

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Written by Tora**

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**Chapter 2**

After drinking some tea, with leaves that were most certainly not from India, I went back to the flat, to think the case over.

I was in my chair, my eyes closed, my hands together, when I heard Wil coming in.

I did not leave my position.

The door opened.

My eyes did not open.

"Thinking about what you've done?" Wil asked, polite enough, but obviously still annoyed.

I did not say anything.

"Right then… suit yourself…" Wil huffed.

"Why do you keep saying 'right'?" I murmured.

I could hear Wil take off his coat and shake off the rain from his umbrella. "Why not?" He confessed. "It's a perfectly good word."

"Don't soak my books," I replied calmly.

"What are you doing? Trying to sleep?" Wil snapped rudely. I knew his rudeness would get the better of him.

Idiot. Do you really think I'd sleep in this position?

I ignored him.

"Seriously. What are you doing?" Wil demanded.

Ignoring…

Wil growled and stomped off, like a little child. He went into the kitchen and began making loud noises.

I opened my eyes. Was he trying to disturb me? Getting out of my comfortable position, I walked into the kitchen, to find Wil cleaning.

"What do you think you are doing?" I questioned.

Wil glared at me and began to open up some grocery bags. He imitated my voice, "Well, Wil, it looks like you are cleaning. How do I know? Well, you have grocery bags full of cleaning supplies, and are about to put on some rubber gloves. You have a bandana to put over your face so that when you dust, you won't get dust up your nose. Elementary, my dear Wil!"

My nose twitched. "I simply asked a question. I did not ask for a report."

Wil ignored me and ripped open a pack of soap.

I sighed. "If you insist on cleaning, please do not touch the coloured dishes."

Wil, confused, looked at the coloured dishes.

Before he had to ask the silly question on why, I said, "The blue dish has a special kind of bacteria, the red dish has some arsenic rubbed on it along with lithium, and the green dish has some blood splatters, which I'm not done testing on. Those aren't human splatters, don't worry. I was just bored so I killed the cat, that's all."

Wil stared bugged eyed at the green dish. "Blood splatters…" Wil echoed. "Killed the cat... isn't that… animal cruelty or something?"

I ignored Wil and went back to thinking.

It was hard to think with Wil cleaning, but I did my best.

But I finally gave up thinking.

"Be quiet!" I finally said loudly.

Wil came into the living room and questioned, "You're not trying to sleep, are you?"

"I'm thinking," I exhaled.

Wil sighed. "Permission to ask why?"

I hummed a little. "Working out a case…"

I opened my eyes, only because I heard Wil starting to drum on his thigh again. I studied him.

"What are you looking at?" Wil questioned. He didn't realize he was drumming on his thigh yet.

"You."

"Whyyy?"

"I'm analyzing you, what does it look like?"

"Why?"

"Because you're drumming on your thigh."

Wil stopped. He clinched his hand into a tight ball and said, "So… tell me about that case?"

He seemed to ease a little once I got distracted with the case, instead of staring at him. "Murder. River Thames. Old lady," I said simply.

Wil blinked and clinched his hands into balls again. "Good Lord…" Wil whispered to himself. "You cannot be serious…"

I frowned at him. "Of course I'm being serious."

Wil exhaled deeply and rubbed his eyes. Sitting down, he muttered, "First day here and there's a murder case…"

I smirked a little. "You've never dealt with a murder case?" I teased.

Wil seemed stunned and said, "Of course not! Murder cases are horrible!" Wil clasped his hands together and breathed in deeply. He was still taken in the shock, obviously.

"Aren't you curious to who the murderer is?" I prodded.

Wil exhaled again and said slowly, "Of course I want the man found. But I do not want any part in solving it."

I stood up and took quick strides to the front door. Wil watched me get my coat on and wrap my scarf tightly around my neck. "Want to come with me?" I asked, still smirking a little.

"Where?" Wil asked, jumping up with pathetic eagerness.

"Shopping," I lied.

Wil shrugged. "I… I guess I could go…"

* * *

"Wait… where are we?" Wil questioned in a bit of a panic.

"Afternoon, Molly," I said shortly.

Wil dogged after me as I walked down the cool halls.

Molly jumped a little and squeaked, "Ah! Sherlock! The body is ready to be examined."

"B-b-body?" Wil panicked.

I ignored Wil to give my attention to Molly. "Then I take it Lestrade has already been here?"

Molly smiled a quick smile. "Yes, he told me that you were coming."

"Did you get food on your other shirt?" I questioned, still ignoring Wil, who was now looking extremely confused.

Molly blinked. She fiddled with her fingers, and stumbled over her words. "Uhh… I was not aware that you knew what I was previously wearing—I mean, why would you say that? You don't know if I got food on my first shirt… do you?"

I replied back, "You usually wear that black shirt with flowers on Thursdays. Not to mention you've got spaghetti stains around your mouth."

Molly clapped a hand to her mouth and began to feverishly wipe off her mouth. "S-sorry…"

"Don't apologies, just show me the body," I said absentmindedly.

Molly looked at Wil, as if she just now noticed him and said, "Who is he?"

I nodded and introduced her to him. "Molly, this is Wilber. Wilber wanted to come with me," I said calmly, as Wil was panicking some more.

Molly waved softly at Wil and said, "Um… so are you helping Sherlock?" She smiled.

Wil looked uncomfortable and said, "Not really…"

Molly snickered. "First time on the case, Wilber?"

"The body, Molly, the body…" I sighed, trying to get Molly to focus, which didn't take long.

"Right, you know where to go!" Molly said cheerfully. She hurried down the hall, and we made our way down the opposite way.

I could hear Molly say, "He noticed that I changed shirts… does he always notice what I wear? I wonder if he likes what I wear… no no… he wouldn't care… or would he…?"

I rolled my eyes and said, "This way, Wil…"

"Molly seems to take a bit of… an interest into you. She seems nice enough. Have you—" Wil questioned curiously. This time smiling just a bit. The annoy kind of smile, when they're trying to hide a silly smile.

"Not interested," I said simply.

"Oh," Wil muttered. His worried face soon returned. "So… where are we going?"

This time I smiled a little. "To the body, of course," I said, opening a door and holding it open for Wil.

The blood from Wil's face drained. I gave him a little push inside. "We mustn't let the cool air out," I insisted.

Wil stood rooted to the spot, while I went to the corpse and unzipped the zipper.

I sniffed a little, inhaling the smell of the body. I frowned a little and began to study the body.

The woman was in her late sixties.

Her face was relaxed and looked peaceful enough.

Putting on gloves, I opened her eyelid. Pale blue eyes.

Wil groaned out, "Don't do that!" As I began to prod at her eye.

"Don't do what?" I questioned, not bothering to look up.

"_That_!" Wil shuttered, turning away from me and the body.

I kept prodding at the eye. Then I opened her other eye and began to poke at it. One eye had an eye contact in it, the other didn't.

Her hair was matted, the kind of matted that you might have when you've woken up and haven't had time to tame it.

Just then, Molly came in and said, "Sherlock, I've brought you the report about her and some pictures of her body just found."

Still not taking my eyes off the woman, I took the file and said curtly, "Thank you, Molly." I began to flip through the file, when I sensed how close Molly was to me. "Kindly give me a little space…"

Molly clumsily stepped away from me, "Sorry, Sherlock, I just wanted to take a peek at it…"

I sighed. "You've already looked at it, Molly."

"So, what have you deduced from this body, hm?" Molly hastily asked.

"Molly, quiet," I commanded, gazing at the papers. I couldn't deduce anything with her talking to me.

Molly was quiet, and I was able to study the pictures.

Talking out loud, I mused, "I take it she was getting ready for the day?"

"That's what we think. See how she looks like she's—"

I interrupted in an annoyed voice, "Yes, I see!"

Molly turned her attention to Wil. "Wil, are you feeling okay?"

Something inside me snapped. "Whoever murdered her must have been close to her!" I shouted eagerly.

Molly, who jumped nearly a foot, stammered, "W-what?"

Getting excited I said quickly, "The murderer must have lured her away from her house! And the murderer must have played the urgent card, otherwise she wouldn't mind going with person without her makeup! It's clear she was a very vain woman, and it must have been very urgent for her to leave her house with only a little makeup."

Molly looked mildly excited, or should I say, only excited because I was excited. "Well that's a fantastic deduction, but we need more proof than that…"

I began to think about the case. I was in deep concentration when a tug at my sleeve brought me out. I looked away from the body and said, "What now, Molly?"

Molly jerked her head to Wil. My gaze fell on him. He was looking extremely ill. "Wil, are you okay?" Molly asked for a second time.

Wil had his hand pressed against his face. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I've never really seen a dead body before… I'm just feeling a little ill…"

I snorted. "Of course you've seen dead bodies, Wil. You've been to funerals, haven't you?"

Molly elbowed me hard in the rib cage, making me grunt in annoyance. "I know it can be a little overwhelming, Wil…" Molly said soothingly.

"What do you mean overwhelming?" I turned to Molly. "You wouldn't be working here if it was overwhelming."

This time Molly elbowed me harder, and this time making me growl. I don't like being prodded at. "Why don't I take you up and we can have some coffee, Wil?" Molly suggested kindly.

She went to Wil and began to lead him away. She turned to me and gave me a severe look. I glared back.

At least I'd have some peace and quiet.

Right as I was collecting my thoughts, Molly entered the room and said, "Just thought I should tell you, Sherlock…"

I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply. "What is it, Molly?"

"Well… what if the woman was trying to… you know, get away from the murder?" Molly suggested slowly.

My eyebrow twitched a little. "Explain. Now."

Molly began to fiddle with her fingers. "It's probably a bad idea…" Molly mumbled quietly, avoiding eye contact.

I repeated myself. "Explain. Now."

Molly shifted feet and said, "Well… you suggested that the man who murdered—"

"Who said it was a man?" I demanded, making Molly smile a nervous smile.

"You're right, we don't know if it was a man or woman yet. You had said the murderer might know the lady. Might have tricked her into going out quickly. But what if she was running away from him? Like he knocked on her door or tried getting in, and she started running away from him. When you're about to die, you don't care much about your appearance," Molly said quickly.

I took in what Molly said. "First of all," I said slowly. "We don't know if it's a man. So stop calling him a man. Second of all… your suggestion was good. Thank you for your thoughts."

Molly squeaked a 'you're welcome', and hurried out, saying something about getting back to Wil.

I thought about what she had said. She was right. The woman might have tried to run away from the murderer. I would have to rethink everything.

I looked back at the body and examined her over again.

So we had a woman. Murdered a few days ago. The options were she tried running away from the murderer or she trusted the person and went with the murderer to her death.

Whatever happened, it happened suddenly. Suddenly enough for her to forget to finish putting on her makeup.

I looked over the papers again. They suspected she had only gotten on her foundation and blush before the murderer came to her door. She had obviously waited to put on eye makeup until after she put in her contacts.

I was about examine the woman's jawline, when my phone buzzed.

It was a text from Molly.

_Sorry to bother you… again. Wil left. _

I frowned and texted back, _He left when you came to talk to me? –SH_

_I'm guessing. _

I honestly didn't really care that he left. He was boring anyway. _Is he leaving the flat? –SH _

_No, he did leave a note that he went back to the flat. _Molly replied.

I growled a little. She didn't have to tell me that right now. It wasn't important. _If he left a note, you could have waited to tell me. –SH_

_I didn't want you to be worried. _

_I'm not. Thanks anyway. Is there anything else you need before you interrupt me? –SH_

Molly took a little while longer to reply. _Nothing at the moment…_

And with that, I shoved my phone in my pocket and went back to studying the body.

* * *

A/n: And here's the next chapter! I was sick the last couple days with a stupid virus but I'm better now.

I did not do a very good job at text correcting, because I did a quick job, and I didn't have help this round... sorry.


	3. Chapter 3

**Written by Tora**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

It was late when I returned to the flat. About seven thirty.

I instantly sensed something was wrong, even before I opened the door. The strong scent of bleach had been wafting down the halls.

I burst open the door and took a look around.

I wasn't shocked at what I saw, just annoyed. Very very very annoyed.

"Wil!" I shouted.

I waited for his reply. He came out of the kitchen. He was wearing gloves and a bandana around his face, like a silly bandit.

"Explain yourself," I barked in a low voice. I gave him what Lestrade so very fondly calls 'my death stare'.

Wil frowned. "I'm cleaning up our dirty flat."

"By cleaning, you mean touching everything that is not yours?" I demanded. I growled and looked around.

Wil waved his hand around and said, "Oh don't be such a baby, Sherlock!"

"I'm not a baby!" I snapped back. "I simply don't want you touching or cleaning anything of mine. Leave it where it is. That way I can find it when I need it."

Wil mouthed the word 'baby' as he walked off.

"Why are you cleaning, anyway?" I asked, following Wil to the kitchen. I smirked. "Wait, let me guess…"

Wil rolled his eyes and said in dismay, "Not again!"

I looked around the kitchen. "You're cleaning because you're nervous."

"I'm not nervous," Wil insisted. He had the guts to lie in my face.

My smirked grew. "Who is the baby now?" I taunted.

Wil opened his mouth, but abruptly closed it. He frowned hard and began to scrub the sink vigorously.

I went on. "Cleaning, being OCD, is a way to keep yourself busy from being anxious and nervous. The way you're cleaning, I'd say you're more anxious than a mother."

"What do you mean more anxious than a mother?" Wil finally said, pausing from the sink to look at me.

"Mothers are always anxious. Anxious for their husbands, anxious for their kids, anxious for their jobs. They clean obsessively," I explained absentmindedly, as I drifted to the main room.

"Pfft, and I bet you never get anxious," Wil growled loudly.

I rolled my eyes. "Of course I get anxious."

"You don't say…? The Great Sherlock Holmes…. Anxious!" Wil said dramatically.

"All detectives get anxious. Anxious to solve the case, for instance," I told him.

I plopped down on the sofa and began to think about the case, pushing Wil and his stupid questions out of my head.

Something in the back of my mind tugged at me. Instead of ignoring it like most idiotic people do, I asked out loud to satisfy the tugging in my mind, "Wil, why did you choose to live at 221b Baker Street of all places?"

I could hear Wil stop cleaning and he said slowly, "Because… I didn't know it was inhabited by a detective. A crazy detective."

"Does that mean you'll be moving out?" I asked carelessly.

"I don't know… I need more time to think about it, but I am considering it," Wil told me.

I opened my eyes a crack and looked at Wil, who was now clearing off the table. I jumped up like a jack in the box, and darted to Wil, shouting, "DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH THOSE, WIL!"

It was too late. Wil had dropped the testing tubes, making them shatter into tiny pieces.

Wil had a terrified look on his face. And he better…

"Well I hope you are happy cleaning that up," I barked. "Don't forget to wear gloves, the chemicals in the tubes were strong, and don't even think about dumping the mixtures down the sink."

Frowning hard, I left the kitchen and opened the door. "I'm going out," I said briskly.

Wil popped his head out and questioned, "Where?"

"To a friend," I said. I thought it over and retracted what I said. "Not really a friend. I don't have friends. Just a person I occasionally work with. If you want to come with me, that's fine. It will keep you distracted from cleaning the kitchen."

Wil shook his head and smiled. "No thanks. I'll be fine."

I squinted my eyes and stared at Wil, before leaving.

* * *

Lestrade took me into his office, and unfortunately Anderson followed.

"Anderson, why don't you leave," I said stiffly to Anderson.

"Don't be mean, Sherlock," Anderson retorted, glaring at me with beady eyes. "I can stay if I want."

I pointed accusingly at Anderson and said turning to Lestrade, "Does he have to stay? You know how dumb he is."

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Girls girls girls, please! Stop making my head hurt. Anderson, be quiet, don't upset Sherlock, don't do anything dumb, and you can stay. Sherlock, just pretend Anderson isn't here."

I huffed in annoyance. "How can I pretend he's not here, when I can hear him think stupid things?!"

"Oy!" Anderson snapped. "I'm not that dumb!"

I took the only seat other than the one Lestrade was sitting in. "Anderson, shut up, you lower the IQ of the whole street."

"Lestrade!" Anderson said irritated, looking at Lestrade for help.

Lestrade pinched the brim of his nose and said, "I thought I told you to stay quiet, Anderson…?"

Anderson sulked in the corner, and started shooting glares at me. I smirked and winked at him, which only made him glare harder.

"Sherlock," Lestrade said, bringing me back to look at him. He was giving me a bored look. "You aren't by any chance… aggregating Anderson even more, are you?"

I smirked at Lestrade. "What makes you think that?"

Lestrade rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath, "I'm like the dad watching two bratty children…"

I was not a child. Much less a bratty child, that was Anderson's job. "Tell me what you found about the lady in the Thames, Lestrade."

Lestrade took out some papers and pulled up his laptop. "Well, it's obviously a lady," Lestrade snickered.

I was not amused.

"We found where she lived!" Lestrade said cheerfully.

I rolled my eyes. "London?"

Lestrade shook his head and smirked. "The Great Sherlock is wrong!" He chuckled to himself, which made me glare at him.

I sighed. "Lestrade, I was making a wild guess."

"I know, but you never make a wild guess," Lestrade pointed out.

Anderson said loudly, "Looks like the Great Sherlock isn't ALWAYS right!"

I turned to Anderson and sneered, "Anderson, if someone could win first place in the field of dumbness, it'd be you. Now shut up."

Anderson opened his mouth, and then closed it, giving me a sour look.

Lestrade cleared his throat and said, "Ahem… so anyway, her name is—I mean was, Nancy Breight and she was originally from Northern Ireland."

My nose wrinkled up. "Northern Ireland," I said slowly, rolling the words in my mouth.

Lestrade could see me thinking hard. "Picking up anything, Sherlock?"

I smirked a little. I pushed back my chair and stood up. "Thank you, Lestrade."

"Wait… you're leaving already?" Lestrade said, looking shocked. "I barely told you anything."

"I know," I said simply. "I want you to take me to her flat. I am assuming you haven't messed her room up yet?"

Lestrade blinked. "Sherlock… you're not really…"

Anderson said arrogantly, "You're not really allowed there. Since, you know… _you mess up everything_. EVERYTHING."

My eye twitched a little. "Lestrade…" I said quietly. "If you want this case to be solved, take me to her flat."

"So you're _threatening_?!" Anderson snapped angrily, stepping up close to me.

"Anderson, get away from me. You're killing my brain cells," I said in a disgusted voice, stepping away from him.

"He's not threatening, Anderson," Lestrade sighed. He crossed his arms and frowned hard. "Ten minutes. No more than that." Lestrade stood up and grabbed some keys and his jacket. "C'mon."

I smirked at Anderson as we left his office.

"Are you sure you don't want any more information about her?" Lestrade asked, as he and I walked down the halls.

I grunted in reply. I was too busy thinking.

We passed Donovan down the halls. She sneered, "Afternoon, Freak."

I ignored her nickname for me and said curtly, "Donovan." I gave her a sharp nod.

"Just walk on, Sherlock. Don't pick a fight," Lestrade said softly to me, watching me carefully.

I snorted. "She's the one that tries to pick a fight."

Lestrade rolled his eyes and opened the door to the outside world. "Well you always end up winning."

"Point?"

"Just… I don't know… forget it, Sherlock…" Lestrade said grumpily. He opened the door to his car and got in.

I got inside the passenger's seat.

"Remember," Lestrade said to me, as he started up the car. "Ten minutes."

I smiled. "I only need ten minutes."


	4. Chapter 4

**Written by Tora**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

We arrived at her flat shortly after the clock struck eight thirty.

Lestrade had told me only ten minutes about thirty times.

Lestrade got out of his car and repeated himself for the thirty first time. "Remember, Sherlock. Only—"

"_I know, Lestrade_!" I growled through clinched teeth.

Lestrade smirked as we walked up to the flat. "Just making sure."

I glared sourly at Lestrade and snarled, "Wipe that hideous grin off your face."

Lestrade ignored me, and simply grinned even bigger. Taking a set of keys out, Lestrade unlocked the door. "Aw, don't be so rough, Sherlock. You're about to be in paradise."

I ignored Lestrade and pushed past him.

Paradise was right, I had to give Lestrade credit.

I took a sniff and said thoughtfully, "Perfume from France. Rose scented, probably about fifty pounds for a bottle. Judging by how strong the smell is in here, she must one of the many elderly ladies in the world with the obsession of perfume. And because their smelling is slowly dying away, they have to put a generous amount just so they can smell it properly."

Lestrade led me into a room. "My grandma always wore her perfume strongly. I feel like all old women use the same perfumes as each other. Like there's an old lady perfume. You know what I mean?"

I rolled my eyes. "Shut up. I'm trying to think."

Lestrade raised his hands up in defense and muttered, "Sorry, sheesh."

So. This was Nancy's room.

I looked around and started to deduce facts from what I saw with my own eyes.

I walked over to her vanity table. Her makeup was still out, as if nothing changed since the last time she was here doing her makeup.

"Expensive makeup brands," I commented. "These makeup brands are a big in the States."

Lestrade snickered. "Wow, Sherlock, you sure know a lot about expensive makeup brands."

I was too consumed by her room to care what Lestrade said.

I opened a drawer to see a pearl necklace. It was tucked away with great care. There was a letter inside the drawer as well. I pulled it out and began to read it.

It was a love letter. From the late fifties. To Nancy Pine from Curtis Breight. The love letter was written with careful penmanship and nice expensive paper. The letter had been opened and closed very often.

I said out loud, "Nancy Breight's husband must have died fairly recently. The pearls were from Curtis and the letter from way back, before they were married. She was still mourning for his lost, because she carried the letter and the pearls wherever she went."

Lestrade took the letter from my hand. "Is it possible that Northern Ireland reminded her too much of her husband, so she had to come here for a while?"

Of course it was possible. But not likely.

I continued to look around the room.

"Where is her luggage?" I questioned.

"Off for inspection," Lestrade said carelessly.

I rolled my eyes and growled in annoyance. "You could have shown me first!"

Lestrade retorted, "Well I didn't know you were going to take on this case! You're unpredictable!"

"So I've been told," I snapped absentmindedly.

"Well… that's good," Lestrade said.

I went to a big drawer and opened up the bottom drawer. "At least you saved me some things," I said haughtily.

What I saw on a white shirt made me smile.

"Found something?" Lestrade questioned, walking up to me.

"Of course. Now take me home," I demanded.

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "You have two minutes left," he joked.

"I didn't need ten minutes after all," I replied back. "Now take me home."

"Okay okay…"

* * *

I opened the door to my flat and excitedly ran into the main room.

Wil was watching some crime show and seemed startled by my excitement.

"No no, continue watching," I said hastily.

"What are you doing?" Wil questioned, taking his eyes off the TV.

I walked into the kitchen. "I said keep watching."

"Uhh… do you want to watch too? I can rewind…" Wil said, though his voice said _please don't watch with me._ He was just being 'polite'.

"On a boring day, I would take that offer up. But I've got a case," I said shortly.

"Oh good. I wanted to watch it by myself anyway," Wil said softly to himself.

I shouted loudly, "I can hear you!"

Wil hastily changed the subject. "Oh, I wanted to say something important. Before I forget."

"Make it quick!" I said in annoyance. I had laid Nancy's shirt on the table and began to get out my microscope.

"Some dude… uh… talked to me… and he offered money to me and said something about—" Before Wil could get any farther, I shouted, "NOT IMPORTANT."

Really, Mycroft? Don't be so nosey. Keep your dieting and your nose out of my way. I have more important things to do.

"But, I thought you might want to know that some guy with an umbrella—"

"NOT IMPORTANT. NOW GO BACK TO WATCHING YOUR SHOW!" I barked loudly.

I could hear Wil huff in great annoyance, as he turned back to his show.

Once I got my microscope all ready, I put the shirt under the powerful magnifying glass.

The shirt was made from cotton. It had been worn several time. It wasn't a fancy or nice shirt, it was a shirt one might wear outside when you're working.

Working on a farm, perhaps.

Grass stains.

Nancy obviously tried getting the grass stains out, but they were still there. Around the neckline was a yellow stain, obviously sweat.

I smiled even more.

I took out my phone and texted Lestrade.

_Did you find any information on Wilber Barrett's wife? –SH_

It didn't take long for Lestrade to reply back.

_Uhhhh… well now that you mention it, no I haven't. I've been too busy with this case. I told Anderson to find information about Wilber's wife._

My eyes went wide and my nostrils flared a little.

_YOU. DID. WHAT_? –SH

_I told Anderson to do it. I was too busy with the case. Do you need Anderson's phone number? He might have some information. In fact, I know he does._

I tightened my grasp on the phone.

_NO! I DON'T WANT ANDERSON'S PHONE NUMBER. –SH_

_Aw c'mon, Sherlock. Don't be so prideful. You need this information. Just because Anderson doesn't get along with you, doesn't mean you don't need that information. I'll give Anderson your phone number_.

_DON'T. YOU. DARE, LESTRADE. Or I WILL blackmail you with those photos of when you were a young adult. –SH_

_Wait—what photos are you planning to blackmail me with? Isn't that called bullying? _

_When you were young and wild. Smoking pot, I believe. I'll send them to all of your co-workers. –SH_

_Oh that. That was a long time ago. I was young and reckless. They won't know it's me. Gotta run._

I set down my phone and glared at it. I knew what he was doing.

I cracked my knuckles and prepared to use some pictures to get him back. I stood up and went to the main room to get my computer.

It was long before… Anderson texted me.

_Sherlock lestrade wanted me 2 giv eyou the information I picked up on._

_Anderson. Stop texting me. Your texting is poisoning my phone. –SH _

_Shut up sherlock. Anyway dont you want to now my information?_

_How did you get into the police department if you type like a second grader? –SH _

_Dont be mean sherlock. Or I wont tell you what I have to sy._

I rolled my eyes and blocked Anderson's number from my phone. I then texted Lestrade.

_I told you not to give Anderson my number. –SH_

I went back to the computer as I waited for Lestrade's reply back. I popped open a file and began to search for some pictures of Lestrade.

_What? Don't be picky._

I growled.

_His grammar is terrible. –SH_

_He's probably just annoying you. He never uses bad grammar with me._

_That's because you're a grammar Nazi, Lestrade. –SH_

_And you're not?_

_Not the point. –SH_

_What is then?_

_The point is I told you not to give Anderson my number. –SH_

I didn't wait for Lestrade's answer. I put away my phone and began a new email. To every one of Lestrade's co-workers.

After sending his workers a few photos of Lestrade in his younger years, I closed my laptop with satisfaction.

I looked up at the TV to see it still running, but Wil completely distracted.

In fact, he was looking at me.

"What?" I questioned shortly.

Wil's eyebrows knitted together. "What are you doing?"

I returned the question. "What are you doing?"

"C'mon, I ask you first," Wil said in annoyance.

I sighed and closed my eyes and pressed my hands together as if I were praying. "Trying to solve a case."

"Looks like you're trying to go to sleep to me," Wil commented.

Such an idiot. Do most people sleep in such a position? Of course not.

"Now answer my question. What are you doing?"

"Watching TV."

"No you weren't."

"Yes I was."

"No, you were looking at me."

"Well now I'm watching the TV."

How annoying he was being. I decided to completely block him, like I had blocked Anderson's number.

The question was simple to me. Why and who would murder Nancy?

Maybe I needed to look at this from another angle. Why did she come to London in the first place?

I don't know how long I was thinking about the case. Time sort of slips away from me when I'm thinking about my cases.

I was brought out of my thinking when Wil said, "Are you sleeping there for the night?"

Irritated, I replied, "No."

"Well…" Wil said slowly. "I think I'm going to bed…"

I cracked one eye open. "It's not even nine."

Wil blinked several times, staring at me with his huge eyes. "Uhh… actually it is fifteen minutes till eleven…"

I opened my other eye and looked at the clock. He was right. I snuggled back into my chair again and closed my eyes again. "No I'm not going to sleep here. I rarely sleep when I have a case…"

I could hear Wil shuffle away. "I am seriously considering leaving…"

I might have snorted in reply, but I really was too busy thinking about the case.

But then I said, "Wil… do you have an enemy?"

Wil stopped shuffling away, and turned to look at me. He almost looked ghostly with the only light coming from the moon and a small lamp.

"Why would you say that?" Wil asked. He decided to come into the room and sit down opposite to me. "I would say everyone has an enemy."

"One enemy or more?"

"I guess it depends."

"And do you have an enemy?"

I watched Wil's face very carefully. There! His twitched ever so slightly. He began to rub his hands together, in a nervous way.

"Not yet…" He hastily turned the question to me. "Do you have an enemy?"

I gazed thoughtfully at him. "What kind of enemy? Do you mean one enemy or several?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Either one?"

I hummed a little before replying. "Well of course. I'm a detective. I have lots of enemies. As for a single enemy, not that I know of. I don't believe there is such a thing as archenemies."

Wil finally stopped rubbing his hands. He mocked sarcastically back, "Of course, you're the only smart person alive, so you can't have an archenemy."

Satisfied with his answer, I moved onwards straight to the bullet. "Did you leave Northern Ireland because you were scared?"

Wil shook his head. "Since you won't stop pestering me until I tell you, I'll go ahead and talk some. My business ended up closing. They laid off a lot of people, and then eventually had to close. Right about then me and my wife divorced. I caught her cheating. I decided to leave for London. You were right. I left her." Wil rubbed his face and said, "So much has happened today. Did we seriously go to the morgue?"

"Yes."

Wil slumped back into the chair. "Right… yeah… I'm struggling to recover what I saw back there. It's not every day I see a body that had been murdered."

"You watch CSI, Wil…"

Wil banged his fist on the arm rest and snapped, "That's pretend! What I saw was real…" Wil rubbed his temples and stood up. "I'm heading off to bed…"

I closed my eyes again and sat there thinking for several more hours.

* * *

I did eventually go to bed, and woke up early to go to the police department.

I don't need a lot of sleep to function. All I need is my nicotine patches and I'm fine.

I rarely ate breakfast, but today I took a snack with me while I walked to the police department.

I left before Wil ever got up and was nice enough to leave him a note that if he touched anything of mine, he would be in serious trouble.

I walked briskly down the streets of London, the air was fresh and cool.

Once I got to the police department, I went in and saw Lestrade and Anderson talking.

I narrowed my eyes at Anderson, and he returned the glare.

"Well well well, if it isn't Sherlock," Anderson said spitefully. "So you blocked my number so I couldn't tell you the information on Wilber's wife, correct?"

"Nice to see you bright and early," Lestrade said skeptically raising an eyebrow at me.

I glared at Lestrade and then at Anderson. "What I have to say is to Lestrade only, Anderson. Get lost."

"I did this work that you asked me to do, and now you don't want to hear the results! It took a long time getting information from Northern Ireland to here!" Anderson exaggerated. He gave me a sneering look.

It didn't take that long, especially since I asked Lestrade to do it only yesterday, idiot. I kept my cool and said dangerously, "I asked Lestrade to do it, not you…"

Lestrade sipped his coffee in an unhurried fashion. "Umm... Anderson," Lestrade said, choosing his words carefully. "Why don't you go and print the papers out for Sherlock?"

Anderson made a hideous face that would have scared his own mother. "Very well. I see I am not wanted," He snapped, walking away.

Of course he wasn't wanted. Anyone could deduce that.

I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and demanded, "Well?"

"Well what?" Lestrade asked innocently.

Glaring at him, I snapped angrily, "Tell me about Wilber's wife. I know you read through the papers yourself on Wilber's wife."

"How do you know that?" Lestrade asked.

I rolled my eyes and said hastily, "It's obvious. On your thumbs you have an ink smudge. You obviously were the one who printed it and picked it up right when it was done printing, before the ink had fully dried. You also have a paper cut on thumb, showing that you had been flipping the paper upwards after you had stapled the paper together. You have little dint marks on the bridge of your nose, showing that you've been wearing your reading glasses. It's obvious Anderson sent you the papers and you printed them out. So you didn't have to tell Anderson to print the papers."

"Be glad Anderson is gone," Lestrade told me in an agitated way. "And also, it was hard to find information on his wife. So we got more information on Wilber and his work place that recently went out of business."

"I see," I said unimpressed.

"What's so important about Wilber's wife, anyway?" Lestrade snapped back. "It's not your business. If he wants to keep things quiet, let him. He's only been around for a day, Sherlock. Focus on the case. "

"Well what if I told you that Wilber and his wife might have a big part in the case?"

Lestrade was quiet for a few minutes. I could tell he doubted what I said, but he kept his mouth shut, because I was usually, strike that out, was always right in the end.

"Saw those pictures of me that you sent to everyone," he said instead, changing the subject. He glared at me. "You think you're so smooth."

"That's because I am."

* * *

A/N: Wafu! You get this chapter a day early! :D Only because I'll be too busy to post a chapter tomorrow...

Hahaha, Sherlock, you haven't met Moriarty yet... then you'll believe in archenemies! No you won't ever meet Moriarty in this story, since this is B.J. (Before John, LOL) and also I hate Moriarty so I'd never try and write him. Don't get me wrong, Moriarty is a very interesting character. I just hate him, sorry Moriarty fangirls. For the first time in a while, I like the good guy more than the bad. You don't get much better than Sherlock's epic hair and cheekbones. :)

I do apologies if this story seems kinda slow... I just realized it took four chapters to end the first day... oh gawsh, this is going to be long... hahaha, okay I don't know about that.

Feel free to leave a comment, comments are highly appreciated! Even criticizing comments are awesome! Just don't be too mean ;) But I do ask, no grammar nazi comments. Those tend to be annoying, and I do acknowledge that I'm a stinky speller and I'm bad at spell checking. BECAUSE I'M LAZY!

See you in my next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

_**Written by Tora**_

A/N: Hey, you've made it this far! This is the second to last chapter! Next week I'll be posting the very **last** chapter, if I can get it done in time!

Sorry that this chapter may seem a little late, and unpolished. My internet was down and I only started writing this chapter yesterday night!

In this chapter, I speed things up a little more, since Sherlock is starting to figure things out, like a boss that he is. Anyway, I considered keeping the slower pace story, but I realized it would not take long for Sherlock to solve this case. And he did predict that Wilber wouldn't be staying for long, so this case is coming to a close in this chapter! In the very last chapter you will have everything explained and see Sherlock bored, because everyone loves Sherlock when he's bored... uhhh I think...

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5**

I had read the papers Lestrade gave me at least three times.

I was back at my flat, thinking the whole case over.

Wilber's wife's name was Sondra Breight Barrett.

If only I could contact Sondra. Did Sondra know her mother was murdered?

I guess I should start explaining things, since you're too stupid to keep up, don't worry, I didn't mean to offend you, everyone is stupid.

The very first time I had laid my eyes on Wilber, I detected something off. It was the way Wilber held himself. At first I decided it was because he had been riding in an airplane for so long. Believe it or not, I now believe that was not the case.

He carried himself the way someone might would if he or she were nervous. You can always tell if someone is nervous. How stiff they are, the look they give you, or the way they constantly are tapping on things or twitching without realizing it.

Another thing, he was constantly cleaning. I've mentioned it before, but nervous people or OCD people, are often driven to do something when they are scared or nervous. Cleaning helps them take their mind off the situation.

At the morgue, he wasn't just horrified that it was a murdered body, it was a murdered body of someone he knew.

Just then, Wil came into the flat, carrying groceries.

"Ah, Wil, just the man I need," I said calmly.

Wil looked a little skeptical. He went to the kitchen and set his bags down. "What do you want?"

I put aside the papers and closed my eyes. "Get my phone."

"Where is it…?"

"On the coffee table."

"The coffee table is right next to you…"

"Correct."

"So… you want me to… get your phone… which is closer to you than to me?"

"Correct."

There was silence. Then Wil huffed in annoyance. I heard his footsteps come closer and then my phone landed in my lap.

I smirked and opened my eyes.

Taking up my phone, I began to Google up Northern Ireland. Of course I had the map in my head, but I needed to see it again, in case I was a bit rusty.

"So where did you live in Northern Ireland?" I questioned Wil.

Wil was preparing himself a lunch, even though it was only eleven o'clock in the morning. "Umm, Belleek…?"

The place sunk into my head. Oh that place. "I see. Belleek Pottery."

Wil nodded slowly. He brought his ham and egg sandwich to the main room and sat down across from me. "So… where are you originally from?" He asked in a dry voice. He was obviously making effort to try and talk to me.

I shook my head. "Not important," I told him. I watched him tackle his ham and egg sandwich like a madman. "I take it you went to the workout gym?"

Wil swallowed his bite that was far too big for him to choke down. "How'd you guess that?"

I sighed. "You went to the gym to work out, you showered there, got groceries and came home. You're still sweating after from a hard workout, your leg is sore the way you're propping it up, you must have pulled a muscle running on the treadmill, I take it you were running far too fast. Your hair is still damp, and you put way too much cologne on. I don't keep a lot of food around, so you got your own. Being a fit person, you couldn't stand my food anyway. You had to get whole wheat bread and lean ham. You're trying to avoid beer by drinking sparkling water with no sugar. And the way you tackle your food suggest you didn't eat breakfast, you just went straight to the gym."

Wil blinked a little and avoided eye contact. "Incredible… anything else you see in me?"

Smirking I went on. What? He invited me to deduce more facts about him. Don't blame me and I'm not a show off. "In your second year of marriage your wife, Sondra, was pregnant, but she had a stillbirth, therefore she swore off never having kids, due to the loss. Sondra's mother, Nancy, found out she had cancer and moved in with you two within the last year. The cancer was treatable, but she was weak and had to live with you. She lost her husband, who she loved dearly, and—"

"STOP IT! STOP!" Wil cried out loud. His face was red with anger and he slammed his fist on the armrest.

I knew I had chosen my words correctly. Being a straight shooter, I inquired, "What is your connection with Nancy?"

I put my hands together, ready for his answer.

Wil closed his eyes and covered his face. "I don't know why Nancy came to London. She was scared of something, that's the only thing I know…"

I squinted my eyes. "Was your wife scared?"

Wil said in a quiet voice, "Yes…"

"Were you scared?"

"Yes…"

"Can you remember why you were scared?" I said all the sudden standing up. I glared into Wil's eyes, waiting for his important reply back.

"Well… I was scared and angry. I was angry at first. So angry that I couldn't see. But then I was scared, and I didn't know why. All I knew was that I had to get away as fast as I could. Nancy also realized she had to get away fast."

I narrowed my eyes even more, as I let the words sink into my brain. "You're telling me what scared Nancy, killed Nancy as well?"

Wil shrugged and leaned back in his chair. I could tell he was getting overwhelmed by the unwanted memories. "It's possible…" He mumbled.

"And what scared you might kill you too?" I prodded.

Wil rubbed his face and I could tell he was getting extremely nervous and worked up. "God, I hope not."

I ignored Wil being completely stressed out and said, "Give me your wife's number. Now."

Wil blinked several times. "No, she's not available. I deleted her number from my phone. All my texts to her. Everything. I want nothing to do with that woman."

My lip twitched a little. "There are ways to get back texts and phone numbers. The only way to permanently delete information off a phone is to completely destroy the phone and then burn it."

Wil slid his plate with an unfinished sandwich, onto the coffee table. He looked ready to burst out into a ball of nervousness. "Look… I don't want to talk about it."

I said in a low growling voice, "Don't try and hide it, Wil."

Wil breathed in and then out, and began to rub his hands together as if he were trying to keep warm. "I don't need your help," He finally said. "You're not going to get into my life."

I crossed my arms and said, "Wilber Barrett, your mother in law was murdered. You may end up being murdered too. If you want to save yourself, talk now."

Wil jumped up with tremendous speed. He shouted in my face, "I WILL _NOT_ BE MURDERED! I will not allow it! I am not a careless old woman!"

I didn't flinch.

"Very well, Wil," I said slowly. "I will find out myself."

I walked to my desk and pulled out my laptop.

Confused, Wil looked at me. "What are you doing?"

"Checking up on your wife," I said carelessly.

"She's not my wife anymore!"

"I know. I'm just saying that to annoy you," I mused.

Wil muttered some swearwords and kicked the chair, only to swear some more and clutch at his stubbed toe.

I pulled up a reliable site on news about Great Britain. I smiled to myself. I was right. "And were you aware that your wife was murdered? Along with her boyfriend?"

Wil stopped hopping around like an idiot. "Say what?" he asked in disbelief, as he walked up to where I was sitting.

He peered at the laptop intently. "You cannot be serious…" Wil said, his face was deadly white.

"Do you wish to confess anything?" I questioned Wil. "Before it's too late?"

Wil's lips twitched, in fact his whole face was now twitching uncontrollably. He turned around sharply and began to walk to his room, repeating good Lord to himself over and over.

I read the latest news. According to the police over in Northern Ireland, the bodies were murdered around the same time as Nancy was murdered. The exact dates were not figured out yet, but how interesting.

Did Wil come here for protection from his enemy? Was Wil being hunted down as I sat here, thinking the case over?

Hours flew by, as I sat there, going to one website to another, searching for news and trying to piece everything together.

I stood up and went to my wall and hung up a Great Britain map. I began to pin locations where the murders took place. I pinned up the picture of Nancy's dead body.

Then I pulled up my phone and texted Lestrade.

_Get me pictures of Sondra and her boyfriend's body. –SH_

I slipped my phone into my pocket and began to study the locations again. Sondra and her boyfriend were murdered in her house.

Lestrade texted back.

_Just heard about the news. I'll try and get pictures. Don't bug me about it. _

_Send them right away to me. –SH_

This time, I tossed my phone aside and began to hang up more pictures of Northern Ireland.

I had almost ignored Wil telling me he was going out.

I was completely absorbed with the case.

When I was done with hanging pictures and maps up, I slapped on three nicotine patches onto my arms and laid down on the sofa.

I laid there. My hands were clasped and the hours ticked away.

I didn't notice the time, but I did sense that it was growing later and later, by the rumbling in my stomach.

"MRS. HUDSON!" I shouted loudly, not opening my eyes or budging. It didn't take long before I heard someone knocking on my door. "The door is unlocked."

Mrs. Hudson came in the room and said, "I'm not your house servant!"

I ignored Mrs. Hudson's comment and demanded, "Get me food. Now."

I could hear Mrs. Hudson groan in annoyance. "Oh Love, must you order me around so?"

"Now, Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson huffed in annoyance and exited my room. "You could at least thank me, Sherlock…"

"Quiet," I barked back. She was ruining my thinking pattern.

I could hear Mrs. Hudson mutter angrily as she climbed down the stairs to get me food.

It wasn't too long before Mrs. Hudson brought me back chips. "I baked them myself, Sherlock dear. They still are hot, so be careful."

I got up and snatched the plate from Mrs. Hudson. Then I hustled her out of my flat. "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Now out out out!" I said snippily.

Mrs. Hudson gasped from the force and said, "You could be a little more polite!"

I slammed the door shut.

I took a bite of one of the chips and began to walk around. It was eight o'clock now. Time flies by when I have a good case.

Dodging obstacles in the main room, I continued to think about the case.

Something wasn't right. Wil should have been murdered around the same time as the others. Was the person scared of coming here to murder Wil?

I realized that Wil had not come back. He had left around noon. I took my phone and texted Wil.

_Wil? –SH_

I took another bite of my chips and sat down, only to jump up again.

Once I finished my chips, I walked back to my computer and began to do a little more investigation.

Wil's company was a small but it was located in Belfast. As the money ran low, the company slowly started having to lay people off. Then finally the business went out.

I glanced at the clock. Ten o'clock.

I picked up my phone.

Still not text from Wil.

Was Wil in danger?

I frowned hard.

I decided to text Lestrade.

_Wil left around twelve PM. He's gone now. –SH_

It did not take Lestrade long to reply.

_Got pictures through a friend. Wil's gone? I would laugh and say he's trying to avoid you, but he's been gone for a long time…_

_Send me the pictures through email. Now. -SH_

I opened my email account and hit the refresh button over and over until I got the email.

I opened the email and then opened the pictures.

Then my phone rang. At this moment? Really, Lestrade?

"Hello?" I said impatiently.

Lestrade answered back, "We think they were strangled."

I looked at the neck of the woman. "Obviously. And who is we? This is Northern Ireland's case."

"Well, Nancy was murdered here so we're working together. You're in it too, right?" Lestrade asked me.

I snorted. "I'm not in a team. I don't work with idiot. I work alone."

"Yeah well we're sort of working together," Lestrade laughed.

I rolled my eyes. "Goodbye, Lestrade."

I hung up before he could talk to me anymore.

Going back to the photos, I looked at her boyfriend's body.

It was harder to deduce facts through pictures, but I managed.

Boyfriend: Never married before, but jumps around from girlfriend to girlfriend. Dyed hair and clean shaven. Obviously wants to make a good impression on the ladies.

Sondra Barrett: Started dating because she was lonely. She needed company, but her husband was never around. Sondra attracted her boyfriend by her natural beauty. She never wore a lot of makeup, and made any man fall head over heels over her natural beauty.

I printed the pictures of the bodies and hung them up on the wall too.

I stepped back and studies the wall.

Where was Wil?

I looked at the clock. Ten thirty.

My mind ran all the way back from the first day I met Wil.

I closed my eyes and replayed everything. How nervous Wil was. How he never wanted to talk about his wife. How scared he seemed to be. Why he came to live here. Why he came to England. Why he left Northern Ireland. Why he seemed depressed and quiet. Why he always told me things in the end and did what I asked him to do. Why he was always cleaning. Why he worked out. Why he was vain about his appearance.

Thinking this all up took another thirty minutes.

I squeezed my eyes shut and thought harder.

My eyes grew large.

_OOOOOHHHH_… I see…

I phoned up Lestrade right away.

"What now, Sherlock?" Lestrade questioned.

He had a hint of stress in his voice.

"What are you doing?" I said, frowning hard.

"Well… I was watching your friend, Wil," Lestrade replied back, his voice trailed off.

"Explain."

"Since you said Wil was missing, I decided to search for him. Just in case the murderer killed Wil too…"

"That is a dumb deduction, Lestrade," I contradicted.

There was silence on the other line. "But you thought—"

I sighed and admitted, "I was wrong. The murderer isn't going to go after Wil."

"Are you saying…"

I smirked. "Correct. How long did it take you to figure it out?"

There was silence on the other line. Then Lestrade demanded, "Explain. I want facts, proofs, and I want you to explain without sassing."

Sassing? I beg your pardon. I do not sass.

"First, where is Wil?" I said patiently.

"Here…"

"Good. And I take it you've arrested him?"

"Ummm… not really. But explain yourself," Lestrade said slowly.

There was something wrong with the way Lestrade was talking.

A small smile formed on my mouth. I loved it when I had to explain everything to Lestrade, who obviously was nowhere near my equal.

"You've figured it out. Wilber is the murderer. I'll explain it to you once I see you and Wil."

This case was closed. All I had to do was talked to Wil and get more information out of him and explain it to Lestrade. Then Lestrade would tell it to the public and I would continue doing other things, while Wil would be hauled off to jail for murder.

Lestrade gave out a hollow laugh. "Well I have some news for you."

"Surprise me."

Lestrade hesitated for a few minutes. Then said, "Wilber killed himself."

I stopped smiling.


	6. Chapter 6

**Written by Tora**

Whoopeeee! You get this chapter early! Because I felt like it and because I'll be too busy to put it up over the weekend!

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"Bored…" I moaned to myself.

I clicked the trigger to the barrel gun twice, before pointing it at the wall and then shooting.

After that I opened the barrel, put another bullet in, spun the barrel, pointed it my foot, pulled the trigger three times, before I pointed it at the wall and shot. I could always hear when the bullet was next in line.

Open, put another bullet in, spin the barrel, point at foot, pull trigger, listen for the bullet coming up, and then shoot at wall.

Playing Russian roulette by myself was boring… but doing nothing was even more boring…

After shooting the wall for the seventh time, I tossed the old barrel gun aside and sunk deeper into my chair.

Then I bounced upwards and began to walk around. After doing that for several minutes, I got bored with that and sat down again, only to jump up and trot around the room like an idiot. After trotting around the room like an idiot, I started walking on the furniture.

I hopped from chair to chair and then jumped nimbly onto the coffee table, crushing pencils and making papers scatter everywhere.

Good heavens I was bored…

When I was done with my routine of jumping on the furniture, I sat down again all out of breath, but still extremely bored.

So I repeated myself until I was _completely_ out of breath.

I needed a case. I was going mad. Bonkers. Batty. Insane. Whatever word you wanted to use.

I tried to play the violin a little, but even that was proving exceedingly boring.

It had been a week since Wil's suicide.

Wilber Barrett. Flatmate for a couple days. Murdered his X wife, her boyfriend, and his mother in law.

It had gone like this. After Wil's business went under way, he became depressed. Not shortly after his job died away, he caught his wife cheating on him. Caught them in the act, shall we say. Wil was filled with anger and jealousy, as any man would be if he caught his wife cheating.

Instead of leaving, Wil who was driven by depression and now flooded with an anger he'd never felt before decided to murder his wife and her boyfriend.

It was effortless to kill them both. He was well fit and killed the boyfriend first. Sondra did try and stop her husband. She smashed Wil on the back with a pot, but that only made Wil angrier. He ended up killing them both.

Then he realized what he did. His anger had cooled down just enough to realize he had broken the law and was now in serious trouble. Thus he had to leave, quickly, right away in fact.

But you see, Nancy had been living with them. Wil had to discard Nancy as well, because she knew what happened.

Nancy was quicker to leaving Northern Ireland before Wil. She left for London right away. What she should have done was called the police right away. But she was elderly and couldn't think straight. She got a flat quickly and settled down for only a few days at the most, before Wil found her.

Molly was right. Nancy was scared and tried to run away from Wil. She was too scared to finish putting her makeup on. She ran. Where was she running to? Possibly the police. She did not have a mobile with her.

Wil, again very fit, did not have to run much to get to the elderly lady. What did he do? He strangled her and dumped her body into the Thames.

Wil stayed at my flat, not for protection, but more so he could keep an eye on the police network. He knew I was a great detective so all murderers of any kind would get to me quicker than other detectives. I was his alarm. If I found out about his wife's body and her boyfriends and started to crack the case that was his signal to leave.

When I started poking him at a different angle, he started to get nervous. He's always had a very good sense of cleanness. He was extremely clean about the murderers he committed, giving him time to escape. That's why he was later in coming to London, he trying to erase the best he could of the clues.

But body language gave him away. When I first met him, his back was stiff. Still sore from when Sondra tried to fight back. He would constantly tap his thigh and was very alert.

Wil constantly cleaned to try and keep his mind off of the murderers he had done. But guilt and my questions finally condemned him. He was filled with grief of his actions and regretted them. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was caught and put on trial.

Filled with grief and depression, Wil chose suicide over life in jail. He drowned himself in the River Thames.

He always did what I wanted him to do because he was afraid of stirring up the hornets' nest, to sort of speak. He didn't want to raise suspicious, and he believed doing everything I asked wouldn't raise my suspicion.

I honestly didn't know what they were planning to do with Wil's body. That wasn't my problem. But they did clear out his things from my flat, and now I was alone.

I needed a new flatmate, preferably not a murderer for a flatmate, but it could be interesting.

Sighing, I pulled up my phone and decided to annoy Lestrade. Because I'm nice that way.

_Bored. –SH_

I waited for his reply.

_Sherlock, I'm busy. Leave me alone._

_Entertain me. I'm bored. –SH_

_What? Don't be a baby. I'm dealing with something right now!_

_A new case? –SH_

_Breaking up an argument between Anderson and Donovan._

_Boring. BORED. BORED. BORED. –SH _

_Sherlock! Please! Why don't you go bother Molly?_

_She's not worth bothering. She's boring. Sorry. Typo. More boring than you are. –SH_

_Is that a complement or an insult to me?_

_Complement, idiot. –SH_

_Right… okay… Gotta run. Why don't you start looking for a new roommate?_

_BO-RINGGG! –SH_

I rolled my eyes and put my phone in my pocket.

I began to bang my head on the back of the chair. Was I to die of boredom? Even accidentally shooting my foot might prove to be more interesting than sitting around.

My phone buzzed and took it out.

I sighed when I saw who the text was from. Just Molly. Just… boring Molly.

_Sherlock, Lestrade told me to text you._

_Why? –SH_

_Because you are bored?_

_Don't answer me back with a question, Molly. –SH_

_Well if your bored, we could do something…_

_You made a typo, Molly. –SH_

_Where?_

_Your. You're. Simple. How dumb can normal people be? –SH _

_Wel if u wnted I could tlk like dis…_

_Molly, stop, you're going to lower my IQ. –SH _

_Oh. Okay. Sorry, Sherlock! :)_

_I'm bored. BORED, Molly. I'm bored enough to talk to you. –SH_

_I'm honored… I think… _

_Actually, I'm not bored enough to talk to you. Goodbye, Molly. –SH_

I had just gotten a text from Lestrade.

_Can't believe I'm saying this to you... but you were going to find out sooner or later… we found a body…_

I smiled. In fact, I was grinning.

_On my way. –SH_

* * *

It had been a few days since the bodies were found.

They said suicide, but it obviously wasn't. It was murder. Carefully planned murder to make it look like suicide.

I was currently in Bart's Lab, doing some studies and tests. I had just gotten Molly to shut up and get some coffee. I had a case. I love a good case. And I hate it when people won't let me think.

Just then the door opened and Mike came in and another man came in.

I glanced at the man.

About five foot six. Why was he pretending to limp? No, wait… he had a cane. But he doesn't need it.

I was still deducing facts about this man when he said, "Well… a bit different from my day…"

Mike did his stupid and annoying chuckle. "You have no idea." What a fake chuckle.

I sighed and said to Mike, "Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine."

"What's wrong with landline?" He demanded.

"I prefer to text," I replied, looking back on my experiments.

Mike scoffed. "Sorry!" He said, in a very unapologetic way. "It's in my coat."

I rolled my eyes.

Out of nowhere, the other man said, "Here… use mine."

I blinked and looked up at the man. "Oh. Thank you," I said curtly. I stood up and walked over to the gentlemen.

Mike pointed at the man who held out his phone to me. "It's an old friend of mine, John Watson."

I glanced at the phone and then took it from John Watson.

Hmmm…

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" I questioned, opening it and beginning to text.

I ignored John's facial expression. "Sorry?" John questioned slowly.

"Which is it?" I sighed. "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

I looked at John for a split second. He looked completely baffled.

Just then Molly came in holding a cup of coffee. "Ah, Molly. Coffee. Thank you."

I handed John his phone back and walked up to Molly. I took the cup and glanced at her lips. "What happened to the lipstick?" I asked airily.

"It wasn't working for me," Molly said sheepishly. She blinked a few times and then turned away.

Wasn't working? She only had it for a few hours at the most… "Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now," I told her honestly.

I went back to my lab experiments and put my focus onto my work again. I heard Molly mumble an okay. Eeehh, this coffee was horrible… I made a face as I took another sip of coffee.

As I was working I said out loud, "How do you feel about the violin?"

"I'm sorry… what?" John replied.

Did he have to say sorry so often?

I turned to the computer and began to type while talking. "I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end," I paused to glance at John's confused face. "Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other."

I gave him a quick false smile, but he only looked even more confused and then glanced at Mike for help.

"Oh… you, uh, told him about me?" John said, looking seriously at Mike.

"Not a word," Mike smirked.

John looked at me again. "Then who said anything about flatmates…?"

So simpleminded. _So_ simpleminded.

I got up and put on my coat. "I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is, just after lunch with an old friend. Clearly just home from the military service in Afghanistan. Wasn't that difficult a leap."

John looked at me with awe. "How did you know about Afghanistan…?"

Did I mention that he was simpleminded?

I ignored his idiotic question and put on my scarf. I then checked my mobile. "I got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it," I walked over to John. "We'll meet there tomorrow evening! Seven o'clock. Sorry, gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary!"

I put my phone inside my pocket and walked passed the stunned John to the door.

"Is that it?" John asked, right as I was about to leave.

I turned around and walked up to John. "Is that what?" I questioned.

John blinked and said boldly, "We've only just met and we're gonna go look for a flat now?"

I nodded. "Problem?"

John gave a smile of disbelief and then looked at Mike again. But Mike just continued to smile.

John went on. "We don't know a thing about each other… I don't know where we're meeting… I don't even know your name!"

"I know you're an army doctor and you've been invalided from Afghanistan," I said slowly. Then I went on a little faster. "I know you've got an older brother who's worried about you _but_ you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him. Possible because he's an alcoholic? More likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correct, I'm afraid."

John looked at his leg and cane and then moved around awkwardly.

"That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" I asked him smugly.

I walked to the door again and opened it. I was about to leave, but I leaned back into the room and said, "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street."

I winked, clicked my tongue, and then left, closing the door behind me.

* * *

Congratulations! You finished my Sherlock fanfic! I hope you liked it! I really enjoyed writing this!

I wanted to thank everyone for the follows and the kind comments that really meant a lot to me! Everyone was really supportive!

Thanks!


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